A late evening in the future.
Remains a moment motionless, heaves a great sigh, looks at his watch.
Ten seconds. Loud pop of cork. Fifteen seconds. He comes back into the light carrying an old ledger. Strong voice, rather pompous, clearly his at a much earlier time.
Looks at his watch, gets up, goes backstage into darkness. Ten seconds. Pop of cork. Ten seconds. Second cork.
Ten seconds. Third cork.
Motionless starring before him. The tape runs on in silence…
CURTAIN.